CALGARY — Art and ambition. The two ideas, actions and philosophies aren’t entirely mutually exclusive when put into practise.

In fact, without the pairing, would we have such things as the Sistine Chapel, The Rite of Spring, War and Peace, Citizen Kane, Sgt. Pepper’s and the Guggenheim.

Usually the problem comes when one overwhelms or comes at the expense of the other. Such as, say, the case with Caligula, the Heavy Metal mural on the side of your neighbour’s van or that petro dollar, McMansion blighting many a block in Lower Mount Royal.

Or, more pertinently, The 2nd Law, the latest release from English prog poppers Muse — a sprawling, garish, over-reaching paean to rockcess that is as substantively hollow as it is unsatisfying. It makes Dark Side of the Moon sound as if it were a Folkways Records release. And it is, at its very essence, silly.

That said. It’s also handmade and perfectly suited for a bloated evening of arena rock, everything big, bright, brash and brilliant that many want from their modern music experience, including inflatable pigs, full orchestral accompaniments and laser light shows.

And, well, Muse’s live reputation being what it is, wandering into the Saddledome on Monday night who could not have visions of grandeur dancing through their heads?

But. Art. Ambition. Are you serious?

Muse’s show was an eye-rollingly impotent embodiment of neither, a ridiculous and often hilarious display of grandiose nothingness, the kind of un-ironic Spinal Tapian excess that should cause anyone who’s familiar with rock music to nudge those beside them at knowingly and smirkingly. A show that wasn’t in on its own joke. A concert that was as unfunny as a pun. One that was so ineffective as to be hardly even worth laughing at.

A show that was no fun.

Musically, it was what Muse are, Queenabees, with obtuse frontman Matthew Bellamy — could anyone actually pick him out of a lineup? — sounding like a cross-pollination between Chris Martin and Thom Yorke, though with neither the showmanship nor self-awareness of either, and material that left him blowing limply in the wind.

Songs such as Supremacy and Knights of Cydonia — yes, that’s the sound of the barbarian, broadsword and Amazonian artwork you see painted on that van — came off like Rush re-rerouted through the railroad of the Trans-Siberian Orchestra, perfectly performed but with the skill over-riding the overall vision and the effect entirely muted and mundane.

Even when they went big, as they did with Panic Station and the re-pulse-ive maddening Madness, they were flamboyant yet still somehow forgettable, an epic production that went straight-to-video or the discount bins.

When they did do the sonic dramatics, as with Resistance and Animals, it merely reclaimed that bedwetting tag Coldplay cast off a couple of albums ago, making it nothing of a surprise that when the threesome attempted to actually, kind of rock, as they did with mid-set effort Liquid State, it was cold, sad and soggy.

And, perhaps all of that, all of the musical deficiencies could be forgiven if the spectacle outmatched it all, if there was any sense of something larger than the staid performances and ho-hum lights and visuals, as grand as they were projected to be. Instead, the stage show, was repetitive, redundant, unremarkable and dull, with only the LSD LED Xmas light display during the encore presentation of Uprising really matching the musical ambition of Muse’s music.

Which, again, might have been something that could slide if it was exchanged for a human element, but the, what?, two instances of actual audience engagement during the less than impressive hour-45 minute show were as cold and robotic as the entire night came across.

It was the Sistine Chapel with mag wheels. Citizen Kane with full-frontal. And a museum in an infill. None of it was as original or epic as it needed to be. None of it entertained. None of it was the realization of art or ambition. And none of it really mattered at all. In theory and in practise.

Perhaps it’s because they wanted the spectacle all to themselves, but Muse’s opening act was somewhat less engorged than the band they were setting the mood for.

The Southampton trio of Band of Skulls put on a scaled-back rock attack, with all sound and no show.

Which would have been fine if that, alone, was enough to carry the 45 minutes they were given. As it was, often they came off sounding like a Tea Party minus the Morrison obsession or the Black Keys sans garage privileges, offering some slowly spread blues rock jams with a psychedelia swirl. At other times, they were merely thudding, half-pleasing but frustratingly muddy background noise in the cavernous room for early comers.

And while on record they have their moments and make a solid statement — especially with their modest hit Light of the Morning, which they showcased to recognition and enthusiasm as time was winding down — as an arena act, at this moment in their relatively young career, they’re good, but merely a competent yet hardly memorable fluffer for the orgy of artful ambition that was to come.

Comments

We encourage all readers to share their views on our articles and blog posts. We are committed to maintaining a lively but civil forum for discussion, so we ask you to avoid personal attacks, and please keep your comments relevant and respectful. If you encounter a comment that is abusive, click the "X" in the upper right corner of the comment box to report spam or abuse. We are using Facebook commenting. Visit our FAQ page for more information.

Almost Done!

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.

Postmedia wants to improve your reading experience as well as share the best deals and promotions from our advertisers with you. The information below will be used to optimize the content and make ads across the network more relevant to you. You can always change the information you share with us by editing your profile.

By clicking "Create Account", I hearby grant permission to Postmedia to use my account information to create my account.

I also accept and agree to be bound by Postmedia's Terms and Conditions with respect to my use of the Site and I have read and understand Postmedia's Privacy Statement. I consent to the collection, use, maintenance, and disclosure of my information in accordance with the Postmedia's Privacy Policy.